Of Night and Light and Half-Light
by Ruze a Koure
Summary: No one has laid eyes upon the royal family for seventy years. No one who goes into the castle returns. The palace gates remain locked, even as the rebels and invaders tear Illea apart. Until, one day, a letter is sent to each household in Illea - the declaration of a Selection. Not your average Selection. SYOC, open, please submit! Working title. 0/35


"She's not dead," he said, even as he knelt over her still body, and watched the blood run. "She's not dead."

* * *

_The king is dead._

* * *

They didn't see the king anymore.

There were no Reports. She could still remember the day their televisions had died and left them staring at nothingness - and they had continued, each Friday, to stare at nothingness as the family gathered together and stared at the set as though it would suddenly, spontaneously revive and tell them that everything would be okay, not to worry, not to worry, not to worry.

There were no visits. The gates of the palace had been locked, shut and boted, and they did not open, not for anything, not for anyone, and the last time a king or queen had spoken in public, it had been brief and hastened - a few words of empty comfort and cold cliches before they disappeared to safety again, behind those tall gates and tall walls and tall tales.

There were no Selections. The last Selection, Queen America's, had been Illea's final Selection - Maxon's sons and daughters had never been seen by the public, nor had their sons and daughters, if they had even had sons and daughters, and when the world had been broken into tiny fragments, fought over by lords and rebels and invaders, not even the Selection could unite it.

Sometimes you had to wonder if the royal family were still alive.

No one who went into the palace ever came out again, and Yaga was beginning to think that perhaps that might be for the best. If the palace was a cage, it was a heavily gilded one, and she could not imagine any birds ever attempting to flee it - not when you were fed and clothed and warm and safe. If you had all of that, and none of this, would freedom even occur to you?

She had been a little too young for Clarkson's Selection, a little too old for Maxon's, and that meant that she was old indeed, and she was the only person in her village, maybe in her province, who could remember laying eyes upon royalty. King Maxon and Queen America had graced the Report every Friday for Yaga's entire adolescence, and before that it had been King Clarkson and Queen Amberley in her childhood, and before that, although she could not remember them, had been King Porter and Queen Abby, the mad king and the murderer.

If King Porter and Queen Abby walked the lands now, no one would call them that. The world was full of madmen and murderers, so two more wouldn't have meant anything.

To keep herself from going mad, sometimes she told stories to her granddaughter, who was growing as insubstantial as smoke, and who still believed in dragons and handsomes princes and happy endings.

Sometimes, Yaga would tell her that a witch had cast a curse over Illea and all the royal family had been imprisoned within the castle and it would take someone brave and true and kind to fight their way through the thorns to save them.

Other days, Yaga told her that the war had turned the royal family into swans with long necks and pale feathers and soft wings, and they had flown away from all of their responsibilities, high high high into the sky, and that eventually, they had crashed into the sun and fallen fallen fallen.

And on a rare occasion, when it could be wheedled from her, Yaga would tell the story of the girl who had won the love of a handsome, kind, gentle prince, who had been taken away from her ordinary world - a world of rationing and conscription and propaganda and castes - and taken her into the world of the palace, and there they had lived happily ever after and...

Yaga still wasn't sure what came after the happily ever after, becausse those sure as hell didn't last.

* * *

_Long live the queen._

* * *

All of Illea stretched before him, a dark expanse studded with lights like the night sky, each light a life with a history and a future and love, each light a thread in someone's life, each light a small piece of the world and he leaned against the balcony railing and he watched.

* * *

_One for loss and two for glee,  
Three for all eternity,  
Four for love long-lost, hard-earned,  
Five for woman scorned and burned._

_Six for hatred, seven for war,  
Eight for a figure draped in lore,  
Nine for when your love is true,  
Ten for battle between me and you_.

(Traditional Illean folk rhyme, describing the meaning of a number of flowers to be found in a bouquet)

* * *

The Selection begins anew, this time with a twist!

For any of you who have been following Heart of Gold - fear not! That fic shall continue, hopefully with an update this week. This story is entirely separate.

As you may know from my writing, although all of you are too kind to say it - I'm not great at writing romance, or the dates that come with writing the Selection. As I was thinking about the Selection and how it must have evolved, and similar structures in history and mythology throughout the world, such as the sale and testing of concubines, an idea began to germinate in my mind.

Here's the basic outline: Illea has been brought to its knees by rebel attacks, political infighting and a war with the allied New Asia and United Commonwealth. This will be the first Selection in seventy years, so no one really knows much about it! No one has ever even seen the prince whose love they are competing for, or know his name.

All of your OCs are welcomed, but only ten shall be picked as main characters! Please PM your character, with their name as the subject line. No Mary Sues or Gary Stus accepted, not first come first serve, the more detailed the better! Form can be also found on my profile。And I hate to say something like this, but your characters have a much better chance if you review the chapters, including this one. Have fun!

* * *

Name:

Age:

Caste:

Occupation:

Province:

Detailed description of their appearance:

Detailed description of their personality:

Three sample dresses they might wear:

Makeover (what changes, their opinion towards it):

Why did they enter the Selection?:

Why were they chosen?:

History:

Family:

Opinion of the royal family as a whole:

Opinion of Maxon and America:

Opinion of the rebels:

How do they treat the other contestants?:

How do they treat the maids? (I will  
create them):

Likes:

Dislikes:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Skills:

Fatal Flaw:

Songs that describe their character:

Sum up their character in one line:

Other:


End file.
